Anniversary
by Lady Aoi
Summary: Heidegger and Palmer's fortieth anniversary has the usual snags. Yep. It's Heidegger/Palmer. I KNOW I KNOW!! Just read it. Rated for language, mild shounen-ai (nothing X-rated. Lucky you ;-p). Now edited because I was a bit unhappy with it.


**Anniversary**

**A FFVII Fan Fic**

**By**

**Lady Aoi**

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Summary: Heidegger and Palmer have a surprisingly cute anniversary.

Pairings: Heidegger/Palmer… YES YES I KNOW I KNOW!!!! Just read the darn thing. It's not so bad.

Rating: PG-13 for mild language, shounen-ai (no they don't get it on. Lucky you ;-p).

Disclaimer: The wubbulous Heidegger, Palmer and Rufus Shinra aren't mine. Neither is the rest of Shinra, most of who just get a little mention in this fic, anyway. They all belong to Square Soft. And I love them for it! *plugs Square merchandise like a good fan fic author* Whee.

Lady Aoi's I just had to. I love Palmer and I love Heidegger and no one writes about them. And the only Palmer/Heidegger fic I've ever heard about was a nasty rape lemon… you can guess who the uke was ;_;. So this is just my take on the two. If you like, let me know. If you don't, don't clutter up my inbox. I get enough spam as it is.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

            Typically, Klaus Heidegger did not suffer fools gladly, or at all. However, when the fool in question was his young employer, he found that he could, indeed, suffer quite profoundly. 

And judging by the clock, it seemed he could also endure suffering by the hour. Exactly one hour, eleven minutes and forty-seven seconds ago, Rufus Shinra had summoned the general to his office for what amounted to a semi-public display of verbal abuse. Semi public because Rufus' office was occupied by a thoroughly harassed and chagrined Matthew Palmer, who looked simultaneously relieved and horrified at Heidegger's arrival. Heidegger had scarcely had time to give Palmer a reassuring nod before Rufus had started in. It was nothing new. Heidegger had heard the entire lecture a week ago in Junon. Even the phrasing was similar, if his memory served him. According to the enraged little blonde, Heidegger was a disgrace to everything Shinra, Inc. stood for. Strife and Avalanche had virtually paraded themselves right in front of his nose (quite literally paraded in Strife's case) and still they had been allowed to board a Shinra vessel (Rufus' own ship, no less!) and caused god knew how much damage before their arrival in Costa del Sol. Why had this happened? Why?

Fighting back the urge to let the little snot-nosed bastard know exactly what he thought of his concerns, Heidegger clenched his fists at his sides and opened his mouth. "Gyahahaha! Well, sir –"

"And I thought I told you to stop that annoying horse laugh of yours." Rufus snapped. "As well as your idiotic one-word excuses."

Heidegger wondered how many words his excuses were allowed to take up these days. The old President Shinra had always asked for the truth of the situation – and he was satisfied with however many words it took to explain that situation. Rufus, on the other hand, seemed to care only for complicated explanations. And the more said explanation suited his own take on the matter, the better. Well, Heidegger knew he was far from being the brightest man at Shinra, Inc. But he also knew he was smart enough to figure out the excuse Rufus wanted to hear. And that excuse revolved around Heidegger's own incompetent bungling. And that was not the reason at all.

"Well, go on, Heidegger. I'm waiting for you to tell me exactly what went wrong at Junon last week."

Resisting the urge to send Rufus flying through the window at his back, Heidegger took a deep breath and tried again.  "Gyah—With all due respect, sir, that disguise of Strife's was pretty damned convincing." There, that was what? Fifteen words? Maybe that would satisfy the little punk.

But Rufus merely narrowed his eyes. "Pretty. Damned. Convincing." He repeated. "Well, congratulations, Heidegger. You've just given me the stupidest, most unconvincing argument I've yet had the dubious privilege of hearing in my entire life. You should feel proud."

"But Heidegger's right, sir!" Heidegger inwardly sighed as Palmer chose this moment to butt in. "You really can't tell what people's faces look like, with their helmets on and… and those visors that cover their eyes and…things…"

"Ah. Indeed," Rufus flipped a stray lock of hair from his eyes and glared at the white-haired man. "Palmer, be quiet. Pretty please? When you become the head of Public Maintenance and Order, I'll be sure and ask your opinion regarding Shinra military uniforms. Until then, your opinion is only wasting my time and annoying me. But then I shouldn't really be surprised. That's all you've managed to do since I became president."

Palmer simply looked down at the floor and said nothing as Rufus continued to berate him. "But then again, I suppose I should expect nothing less from a fat old fool who can't even steal a tiny airplane. But we've already had this conversation, haven't we?"

Heidegger gritted his teeth as Palmer nearly choked out an apologetic and humiliated 'yes' to Rufus' taunts. How dare Rufus… and how dare Palmer take it up the ass like this?! No. Heidegger had listened to Rufus' bullshit for an hour and a half now, and god only knew how long Palmer had had to put up with it.  Enough was enough. Besides, they both had somewhere to be, and he'd be damned if anyone – especially Rufus Shinra – would spoil this evening.

"I assure you, sir, I will never make the same mistake again. The next time I see Cloud Strife…"

"You and Palmer will probably walk right past him and keep walking towards the nearest bakery. Yes, I understand. Now, as it's getting late and I have nothing more to say about the matter, you are both dismissed."

Heidegger was physically trembling. Yet, he still managed to salute politely. "Yes, sir."

"Yes, President Shinra," Palmer murmured meekly. Heidegger almost wanted to slap him.

"Good night, gentlemen. And Palmer? Do try and keep from getting hit by another truck if you can."

"Y—yes, P—president Shinra…" the grey-haired man stammered as Heidegger literally felt his blood begin to boil. Damn that arrogant, little son-of-a-bitch! How dare he – no, how dare Palmer let his whining get to him?! 

But instead of telling both men off, Heidegger simply left the room, not bothering to look back.

~*~

"Gyahahahahahaah!" Wham! Wham! Wham!

"Klaus…."

"Gyahahahahahaha!" Wham! Wham! Wham!

"Klaus, please…"

Ignoring Palmer, Heidegger snarled and slammed his palm against the elevator wall again. "Who the hell does he think he is?! That stupid" wham! "little" wham! "shit for brains!" wham! "Someone out to teach him some respect for his elders!" Wham wham wham!

"Klaus, he may be young, but he's also the head of the world's most powerful… anything! He doesn't need to respect anyone if he doesn't want to…" Palmer sighed. "Especially not somebody like me…"

"Matt, if you're trying to calm me down, think of something else to say. Gyahahahahahahahaha—aaaaaaaaahhh!" Wham! Wham! Wham! 

"Klaus, please. You're going to hurt your hand if you keep hitting that wall." Palmer shuddered. "And I don't want to spend any more time in an emergency room. Especially not tonight."

It took Heidegger every ounce of his remaining resolve to refrain from telling Palmer the truth: the way I'm feeling right now, it's either hit the wall or hit you. Still, he reasoned, Palmer did have a point. Tonight really was too important to waste on Rufus Shinra… or in a hospital with a broken hand. Or, worse, in the hospital with a broken Matthew Palmer. Now that thought really was sickening. And so, Heidegger gave the metal wall a final hardy slap and turned to face the elevator doors, arms folded over his chest.

A long silence followed. Palmer coughed nervously and shifted his weight. Heidegger tried to channel his frustration into imagining many painful and gruesome ways of torturing Rufus Shinra. He had just picked dragging the boy behind Proud Clod as his favorite method when the elevator doors pinged and opened onto the deserted foyer of Shinra, Inc's main floor.

~That idiot Rufus,~ Heidegger fumed as he glanced up at the clock. Six thirty already. If they were late to dinner because of his whining, so help him god –

Heidegger blinked as a large, warm hand slipped onto his shoulder.

"Klaus, we're alone…" the hand's owner said softly.

Instantly Heidegger froze. On the one hand, this was to be expected. While most people could easily identify Rufus' taunts as Rufus' problem, most people also had the emotional strength to sit through a mushy Shinra Phone Services commercial without bursting into tears. And Matthew Palmer was not one of these fortunate individuals. Thus, today's confrontation must have been cataclysmic for the man, to say the least. On the other hand, they were standing right in the building's main foyer. And even though it was late, anyone could walk in and see. On the other hand, pushing his partner away right now might just result in a sobbing Palmer, a ruined evening and (worse!) some humiliating security footage for anyone to use for god knew what purpose. Heidegger sighed. Emotional diplomacy was not his forte. It really wasn't. Finally, the security cameras' flashing red lights made his mind up for him.

"Gyahaha. I know," Heidegger reached out and patted the older man's shoulder in return. A nice compromise. A platonic but not uncomforting gesture. And no one who watched the security tapes would be able to say otherwise.

Unless, of course, their voices were also being recorded.

Heidegger shook his head. He did not want to think about that right now. "Come on, Matt. It's late and we'd better get moving if we don't wanna give up our reservation. You know how hard it was to get it." And it had been hard. Being a top Shinra executive alone did not guarantee you a table at Le Maison Rouge** on a Friday night. Sending four fully armed and slightly annoyed Turks to visit the restaurant manager, however… well. it certainly made a strong impression. Heidegger chuckled to himself. The things he'd do to keep his partner happy.**

But Palmer didn't look very happy now. In fact, he looked downright miserable as he stared at the floor. "I should probably drive," he murmured at last. "It's not safe to drive when you're angry."

~*~

Typically, allowing Palmer to operate *any* large machinery unsupervised classified as a suicidal gesture. Not only did the Space Program director's slightly lazy left eye make for an erratic trip on a good day, the man also seemed unable to concentrate on anything but talking about his day, the latest developments in astronomical research, or the latest novel he'd finished last night . In the presence of others, Palmer's rambling (interspersed with a hearty "hey hey!" every so often) seemed incomprehensible, childish, and worst of all, idiotic. But as Heidegger had discovered decades ago, there was a universe of difference between being a social phobic and being stupid. And Palmer was the first of these. If you put the man in a room with people he scarcely knew and who were none too shy about showing their dislike for him (namely almost everyone at Shinra, Inc.), Palmer instantly became timid, immature, and verbally awkward. If Heidegger had five gil for every party he'd had to miss because of Palmer's condition… well, he was certain they would be able to retire in style in a nice Costa del Sol bungalow… provided that the lack of actual work would not drive Palmer insane.  In the presence of his partner, however, Palmer almost seemed to become a different person. No. Not a different person. His real self. His true brilliant and idiosyncratic self. Not that the real Matthew Palmer was any easier to contend with than his fidgety alter idem. After three or four hours of listening to Palmer talk about everything from astronomy and painting to philosophy and the fine art of Wutaian Seventh Dynasty cuisine ("Did you know most people can't tell the difference between Sixth and Seventh Dynasty food, Heiddy?" "Don't call me Heiddy. Not even in private."), Heidegger often found he either had to take refuge in the nice, mind-numbing glow of a televised chocobo race or simply smile and nod while tuning the man out for awhile. And while Heidegger hated himself for it, the fact still remained:

~God damn it, I'm just not as smart as you, Matt. Or as… I dunno. Interested. Cultured, I guess. It all looks like the same damn food to me. Uncooked fish and a lot of spices with names like "wong ning" and "chi gung" that make my acid reflux start in. I'll take regular Midgar crap any day.~ Heidegger sighed. ~How the hell did a brilliant guy like you ever fall for a meat and potatoes son-of-a-bitch like me?~

Typically, asking Palmer that same question elicited an amusingly flustered response ("Meat and potatoes? Hardly. You're more like veal and brandied chocolates, Klaus.") But today, Heidegger knew better than to tease his lover. Palmer simply drove through Midgar's crowded streets with unusual care and precision, eyes glued to the road ahead, lips pursed in a silent and melancholy line. It simultaneously pained and angered Heidegger. Why the hell was a brilliant guy like Matt Palmer letting a few taunts from a little shit-talking punk get the better of him?

            At last, Palmer managed to find a parking space within walking distance of the restaurant. Frankly, Heidegger was relieved. One more minute of silence and he was convinced he would have lost it. Thankfully, the pair was soon seated at a small table in an appropriately dark corner and Palmer could distract himself by pouring over the lengthy menu while Heidegger examined the wine list.

            "Gyahahaha! Take a look at this, Matt! They've got Claret clear back from '22!"

            "Oh…"

            "I bet it's pretty good." Heidegger could not help but feel he was attempting to bribe a petulant nine-year-old with candy.

            "Yes. That is a wonderful vintage." 

            Damn it. Palmer could be so… frustrating when he was depressed! "Matt," Heidegger said, putting the wine list down. "Look at me."

Cautiously, Palmer peered over the top of his menu.

            "Listen, Matt. As a military man, I can tell you that I respect my commanding officer. And I'd follow any of his orders to the letter without question, because that's just how it should be." Heidegger looked to his left and right before leaning in conspiratorially. "But I'll be damned if I like the little brat. That's a whole different can of worms."

            "You're certainly entitled to your feelings." Palmer returned to perusing his menu.

            "Matt, what I'm trying to say's – your better than he is. A whole lot better."

            "That's very nice of you to say. But –"

            "But what?"

            "But… Klaus, I'm not trying to be rude, but a lover's praise..."

            "What about a… what about it?"  Heidegger glanced around nervously. Did Palmer have to say words like 'lover' so loudly?

            "Well… it's hardly objective, is it?"

            Objective? "Are you trying to say my opinion doesn't count?"

            "No, Klaus. Objective means… truthful. Fair. Untainted by personal bias."

            "I'm not biased against you."

            "But you may be biased in my favor." Palmer sighed. "Can we drop this, please?"

            Heidegger was sincerely tempted to take Palmer up on his offer. Work was never easy, even when you didn't have Rufus Shinra barking at you, and he'd truly wanted this to be a pleasant anniversary dinner. But if forty-five years of living with the same person day in and day out taught you anything, it was that you sometimes didn't get what you wanted.  Because half the time the other person didn't behave how you wanted him to, dammit. "Matt, c'mon… I'm not the bad guy here." Heidegger paused. "What's eating you?'

            Palmer chuckled. "Well, for starters, possibly the fact that I'm a fat old fool."

            "Dammit, I'm being serious!" Heidegger scowled. "Come on! You're the one that's always asking me to be more sensitive and talk about feelings! And I'm trying to find out what's eating you here!"

            "Klaus," Palmer put his menu aside. "If you really are trying to be sensitive, you might want to start by listening a little better in the future."

            "I was listening! You said you felt like you were a fat old fool –"

            "Actually I said I AM a fat old fool…"

            "Felt like, were, okay. That's a semantical difference. The point is, you're feeling bad and I'm trying to find out why."

            "Klaus," Palmer sighed and ran a hand over his face. "I just told you why. You listened to my words, but you didn't listen to what I was really trying to say."

            "I don't get it." Was this some secret Matthew Palmer code? "You said you felt like a fat old fool –"

            "That I AM a fat old fool –"

            "That's just a semantical difference!"

            "The word is semantic, Klaus."

            Heidegger shrugged. "Semantic, semantical. Whatever. The point is, you're letting some little ass wipe's lies get the better of you –"

            "They're not lies and they're not getting the better of me."

            "Bullshit they're not!"

            "Klaus, for god's sake!" Palmer cried. "I'm upset because I agree with the things Rufus said!"

            Heidegger simply blinked. "Wait. You agree with him?"

            Palmer threw his hands into the air. "YES!" he shouted. "That's what I've been trying to tell you for the last ten minutes!"

            Heidegger didn't have to turn around. He felt every eye in the restaurant move immediately to their table. In the embarrassing silence that followed, Heidegger fumbled for an explanation. "Gyahahahaahah!" he laughed after a moment. And he continued laughing until a few people in the restaurant began mimicking him. "My friend here was just letting me know they had claret on the wine list. Gyahahahaahah! '22, too! It's a good vintage! Gyahahahahah!"

            Palmer looked like he wanted to sink through the floor and die.

            "So, I guess that's it then! This place has great food! Gyahahahaha!" As the restaurant returned to life again, Heidegger turned back to Palmer. 

            "My god, I can't take you anywhere," Palmer moaned, burying his face in his hands.

            Heidegger sighed. "Look, Matt… we both know I'm a shitty listener and I'm shitty at all this emotional stuff, too. So if you want to tell me what's wrong… you just need to spell it out, okay?"

            "I thought I was spelling it out." Palmer huffed.

            "Matt… what's this about you feeling like a – being an old fat fool?" Heidegger prayed he'd gotten it right this time. He was almost relieved, too, when Palmer merely sighed instead of correcting him.

            "Klaus, I didn't exactly have a series of difficult orders to execute the last time I went to Rocket Town with Rufus. I just had to steal an airplane and shoot anyone who got in my way." Palmer folded his menu restlessly. "And I failed to do both. I didn't even recognize AVALANCHE when they literally ran right into me at Cid's house. Even if I had, though, I don't think the mission would have ended any differently."

            Heidegger clenched his fist. "If I ever find the son-of-a-bitch that ran into you, so help me –"

            Palmer shook his head. "No. I don't mean that. Klaus, I'm trying to say that… maybe ten years ago, stealing the Little Bronco wouldn't have been a problem. But this time it was."

            "And that's why you're upset?"

            Palmer shrugged. "In part."

            Heidegger was about to ask which part of his lover's problem he had just been privy to when the waiter arrived to take their order. Heidegger ordered the fillet mignon, a shrimp cocktail and a bottle of the '22 Claret, fully aware of the multiple heart attacks the dinner would probably give him two years later. Palmer ordered game pheasant in orange sauce, escargot, three pieces of blueberry cheesecake and…

            Heidegger sighed. Dear god, Matthew really was depressed!

            "Will that be all…sir?" the waiter questioned, giving Palmer a thoroughly disgusted look. Heidegger wanted to stab a fork through his eye and was reaching for one to do so when Palmer gave him a stern, disapproving look. Grudgingly, Heidegger put the implement down as the waiter walked away.

            "I really can't take you anywhere," Palmer smiled sadly. "Although I do appreciate the 'me Tarzan you Jane' sentiment. It's endearing." 

            Heidegger snorted. "You're not going to get out of telling me what's really eating you."

            "Well, in about three hours it's going to be a major attack of the 'munchies'. We are going out for ice cream later?"

            Heidegger frowned. "I'm serious, Matt. There's something else eating you besides this whole Rufus thing, isn't there?"

            Palmer shrugged. "You said yourself you didn't want to ruin the evening. Thank you," he nodded politely to the returning waiter, who merely plopped the escargot down in front of him and stormed off. Palmer sighed and picked up his fork. "Klaus, the service might be better if you didn't try to kill them every time they gave me the evil eye. I'm really used to it by now." But the hurt in Palmer's voice belied his remark.

            "That's stupid and you know it."

            "Yes, of course it's stupid. It's also life. Mh. And this escargot is excellent! You should try some."

            Heidegger shook his head. "I don't get it. First you want me to be sensitive and then whey I try to, you push me away."

            Palmer's lower lip quavered briefly. "I'm not trying to," he said apologetically.

            "Then just tell me what's bugging you, for god's sake!"

            Palmer looked away. "You'll be displeased."

            "Well, I'm getting displeased sitting on my ass watching you suffer about it. Hey, look at me." When his partner complied, Heidegger locked eyes with him. "I'm not dropping this, Matt."

            Palmer was silent for a long time. And then finally he sighed. "Alright, but it's your funeral."

            Heidegger blinked. "You're worried about me dying?"

            Despite himself, Palmer laughed. "No, you – it's a figure of speech! And another thing, Klaus. I'm really going to have to work on your sense of irony one of these days. And no, irony is not a small, handheld household appliance."

            The general's left eye twitched. "Just spit it out already."

            "It's difficult," Palmer said at last. 

            "So does it have something to do with Rufus today, or what?"

            "Actually, yes. That's the problem." Palmer folded his hands thoughtfully and sighed. "There's just no good way to say it but…"

            "But?"

            "Klaus… are you… are you ashamed of me?"

            Heidegger nearly fell out of his chair at these words. For a moment, he could only stare at his blushing lover before throwing his head back and interrupting the entire restaurant again with a hearty "Gyahahahahaahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaa!"

            "It's not funny!" Palmer cried. "It's terrible! And I need to know – are you ashamed of me?!"

            But Heidegger had some explaining to do first.

            "Sir, could you please lower your voice?" the waiter asked as he hurried towards the table. "You're disturbing the other guests." He shot Palmer a nasty look as if it were somehow this were the older man's fault.

            "Gyahaha! Whoo, sorry!" Heidegger clutched his chest and struggled to control his laughter. "It's just – my buddy here's such a card sometimes! Gyahahahahahahah!"

            Nearly everyone in the restaurant, including the waiter, jumped as Palmer slammed his fist down on the table. "See, this is exactly what I'm referring to!"

            "Sir, please. I *said* you should keep your voice down."

            Palmer ignored the waiter. "No, your 'buddy' is not a card. And neither is your partner!"

            It was difficult to tell who looked more uncomfortable now; Heidegger or the harassed-looking diners, all of whom turned towards the table in shock as the waiter hurried off with threats of calling his manager. 

            "Matt, you heard the man," Heidegger soothed. "We should probably keep it down."

            "No, I've been keeping it down for forty-five years now! And I'll be damned if it's going to stay there! Everywhere we go, everyone we meet, I'm always 'my buddy Matt' or 'my co-worker Matthew' or 'my cousin from Gongaga.' Your cousin?! What the hell was that about?!"

            How the – he was still pissed off about that?! "Shit, Matt! That was twenty years ago!"

            "Yes, and I haven't forgotten it during the last twenty! Because I'm not your army buddy and I'm sure the hell not your cousin! And I am only your co worker when we're in a bimonthly board meeting and my department is getting financially screwed up the ass again."

            It was now Heidegger's turn to want to sink through the floor and die… or smash the nearest person in the face. "Dammit, sit down and shut up!" he snarled. "You're embarrassing me!"

            "He finally admits it!" Palmer cried, jabbing a finger in Heidegger's direction. "So what embarrasses you, Klaus? Is it my age? The fact I can't hold a conversation in public like I could twenty years ago?!"

            "You know god damned well I don't give a shit about that!" Heidegger snarled as he dropped his napkin onto the table and stood up. "But I do give a shit about you going off at me like this just because you don't have the balls to tell some little – someone to shut up and eat shit to his face!"

            "Alright, Klaus. Since you're being so unusually sensitive this evening, and since you like me to be direct,  I'll get right to the point."

            "Finally! Thank god," Heidegger rolled his eyes.

            "Are you having an affair with Scarlet?!"

            "….." Heidegger hadn't had the wind knocked out of him since his days in basic training. Even so, he could safely say the feeling in his chest at hearing Palmer's accusation was very similar to that unpleasant experience. "…….?!?!?"

            "Well, are you or not, Klaus?!"

            "…..Matt…." It was… Heidegger felt as if he were simultaneously repressing a laugh, a sob, and a thoroughly pissed off yell. "What the hell are you talking about?!"

            "Just answer the question!"

            Before Heidegger could, however, the maitre'd approached the table accompanied this time by two burly security guards and the smirking waiter.

            "Sir," Palmer shot the maitre'd a glare as he gently tapped him on the shoulder.

            "What the hell is it now?!"

            "I'm going to have to ask you to leave, sir. You're disrupting the other guests."

            "And you're also disrupting an argument," Palmer turned away from him.

            "Sir, please," The maitre'd signaled to the security guards as Palmer wrenched himself free from his grip. "If you don't leave peacefully –"

            "Fine, I get the point!" Palmer's eyes narrowed dangerously as the waiter raised a hand to stifle his laughter. "And you – " the waiter blanched as Palmer lumbered towards him. "How dare you look at me that way?! Giggling behind your hand like some sort of hyena. You should be ashamed!"

            "Sir –" the maitre'd looked as if he needed a raise.

            "I wasn't doing anything, sir." The waiter sneered.

            Palmer held his arms out to his sides. "The hell you weren't!" he snapped. "Well, go right ahead. Take a good, long look at me! Yes, you idiot. I'm telling you to look at me."

The waiter rolled his eyes and did as he was told. 

"What do you see?!"

"Sir?"

"I said what do you see! Stop pouting and do what you're told! No? Not so quick to offer up an opinion now that you know you've been caught? Well, I'll tell you what you see. You see an old, fat man who ordered an unusually large meal. A meal he was fully willing to pay for *and* probably tip generously for. Because he is a very rich old, fat man indeed."

"Sir –" the maitre'd tried again. Heidegger had to hand it to the poor man. He certainly had a lot to put up with today.

            "Of course you are, sir." 

            "Did it ever occur to you, young man, that you're not going to be young for the rest of your life? You're what? Twenty? Twenty-two? Give yourself thirty years. And if you're any thinner or better looking than I am now, congratulations. Somehow you cheated the system. Otherwise, look forward to the day when some fresh little bastard stares and laughs at you on the most important night of your year. Then maybe you'll understand how I felt when I said the following: grow up and pull your head out of your ass. Because I'm a human being and I don't care what problems you have with the obese! I should be treated like one!"

            "Alright, buddy, let's go." But Palmer wrenched his arm away with surprising strength as the security guard went to grab it.

            "Get your hands off me! I can find the door myself." Palmer snapped as he adjusted his bow tie indignantly. And then, without another word he turned and stormed out of the restaurant, leaving everyone in a stunned silence.

            "Well," the maitre'd said, mopping his brow. "I think that went rather well, don't you?"

            Heidegger simply stared after his lover, stunned. So… that was the reason Palmer was so upset… well, that and the snot-nosed punk who was now attempting to slink back into the kitchens.

            "Just a second," the boy winced as Heidegger grabbed him by his collar and hefted him off the ground.

            "I – I didn't mean anything by it! Let me go!" the young man whimpered.

            Instead of listening, however, Heidegger simply raised the boy another few inches. "You're going to do three things for me, so listen carefully," he said.

            "Sir, please –"

            "Oh shut the hell up or you'll be next!" Heidegger roared shooting the maitre'd a look of pure hatred. The harassed little man -- and even the security guards -- immediately quailed and backed up a few steps. Heidegger smiled to himself. It was nice to know you still had it at sixty.

            "Now, I was saying, you're going to do three things for me."

            "A—anything…" the boy whimpered.

            "First, you are going to send Mr. Matthew Palmer a formal written apology first thing tomorrow morning. Second, you are going to deliver it along with a game pheasant, an order of escargot and three slices of blueberry cheesecake that you are going to pay for. And thirdly, you are going personally deliver it to him. Politely. And if you don't, you will have to answer to General Klaus Heidegger from Shinra, Inc. and the Turks. And trust me," Heidegger growled as he shook the waiter slightly. "They aren't as nice as me. Especially when they have to break the kneecaps of someone that's been a real prick to my lover."

            Lover?! Had he just said what he thought he had? Out loud? And in front of a room full of strangers?

            And after telling all of them his name?!?!?

            He could afford to be mystified about this later, however. After he had thrown the trembling sniveling boy into a wall, informed the maitre'd that he wanted a refund for his meal, and stalked down the two flights of stairs to the parking lot.

            However, he didn't have long to be mystified. Palmer was nowhere to be found. 

~*~

            Three hours later, Heidegger pulled over into a pool of light from a nearby mako lamp and buried his face in his hands. He had to think. He just had to think. It wasn't like Palmer to run off like this. Hell, it wasn't like Palmer to throw a fit and lose it in front of a whole group of people in the first place! He just had to think… where would Palmer go if he was upset? Besides the city's ice cream parlors, fast food restaurants and book stores? Heidegger had tried each and every one of these locations twice without luck. It was getting late. And the thought of Palmer wandering through Midgar's dark streets alone and upset…

            Heidegger pulled out his cell phone and considered calling Tseng. Fear of breaking down as he told the Turks leader the situation, however, kept him from punching the last few numbers. God damn it! Why the hell did Palmer have to pull this shit?! And on tonight of all nights?!?

            ~Because he thinks you're humping Scarlet.~

            Heidegger wished his brain would shut up. And yet the damn thing persisted.

            ~He thinks you've been banging your best friend.~

            Dammit, had Palmer been drinking too much lard tea these days or what?! That was like asking you if you were having an affair with your little sister!

            ~Well, you do spend a lot of time with her, Klaus. And you didn't say anything about those rumors. In fact, you pretty much encourage them, don't you?~

            Well, yeah. But there was a good reason for that! Because if anyone at Shinra knew Heidegger didn't bang women and hadn't in the last forty years ….

            ~You still could have denied it without risking losing your job.~

            Heidegger sighed and rested his head against the steering wheel. Sometimes he hated his brain.

            ~You insensitive asshole.~

            A lot.

            So what should he do now?

            But it seemed his brain wasn't finished berating him yet. ~After all he's done for you. Would you even have a career at Shinra without him, huh?~

            Heidegger had to admit he wouldn't have.

            ~Hell, would you have ever gotten out of Coral Prison?~

            Probably not.

            ~Would you have ever gotten a cushy job?~

No.

~Would you even be alive today?~

            So what was the point, already?

            ~The point is, Klaus. You're a lucky man. Not just because you turned your life around and shit. Anyone can do that with enough motivation, and you had plenty of it back then. No. See, you're lucky because you had a guy like Matt rooting for you the entire time and helping you out at every turn. Even when things got hard. And you've had him doing that for forty years and he's never asked for a damn thing…~

What about the ice cream? He asks me to go get him that even when it's the middle of the night and freezing outside. Gyahahaha!

~The guy's absolutely devoted to you, Klaus! And as soon as you leave the house in the morning, it's like you forget that. And then he becomes your buddy, your co-worker, your cousin --~

Oh come on! Not you too!

~Klaus. It's no wonder he thinks you're banging Scarlet. Because if anyone asked, you'd say you sure as hell weren't banging him. Right?~

….

~Right?~

Heidegger decided that, yes he was an asshole. Was his brain happy now?

~Gyahahah! Yep. I couldn't agree more.~

And that his brain needed to be shot first thing tomorrow morning.

~Gyahahaha! Yeah right. And by the way, your cell phone is ringing.~

Bull shit it was.

~No, it's ringing. You'd better answer it. The call looks like it's coming from your apartment.~

Huh? Heidegger looked down at his cell phone. Sure enough. The Caller ID said Heidegger, Klaus. 

~It's probably Matt.~

Yes, Heidegger knew that. Now would his brain kindly shut the hell up?

~…..~

Heidegger grabbed the cell phone. "Heidegger. Matt? Is that you?"

"…..Klaus…" It sounded as if he'd been crying, but at least he was safe.

Heidegger let out a sigh of relief. "God damn it, Matt! Where the hell did you go?!?"

"Klaus, I'm calling from our… from your apartment. Obviously I went home."

"Without telling me?!? I've been driving around the whole damn city for the last three hours looking for you!"

"Well, I wasn't thinking so clearly when I left."

Heidegger sighed. "Alright, fine. Look, just – just stay in one place for a little, okay? I'm coming home."

"Okay…"

Heidegger hung up and revved the car's motor into life. God damn Palmer!

~No, god damn you! How long has it been since you last kissed him?!~

And once again, Heidegger cringed and decided his brain needed to die.

~*~

"Matt?" Heidegger asked as he entered the living room and nearly fell over an end table. "Gyaah!"

"Welcome home," Palmer continued to stare blankly at the television. Heidegger rubbed his shin and followed his partner's eyes to the screen. A smiling man in his twenties twirled a laughing woman on an immaculate beach. Spray crashed behind them and water glistened off their barely-clad bodies. It was an ad for Costa del Sol: lover's paradise.

"You don't need to stare. I know they're both more attractive than I am."

Heidegger reached out and switched the television off.

Palmer looked up at him, stunned. "My show is on," he protested.

"The hell it was! You were just sitting here watching commercials and feeling sorry for yourself…" The general's eyes traveled to the couch as he switched a desk lamp on. "And eating ice cream. And candy. And… are those my chips?" 

"Yes, Klaus. I 'pigged out'. And stole your Doritos to do so. Arrest me." 

"Dammit, stop being so melodramatic."

"I think I have every right to be. My fortieth anniversary was nothing but a day-long public humiliation. And you've been cheating on me for years. Excuse me while I eat another box of doughnuts." 

Palmer jumped as Heidegger slammed his hand into the table. "Stop saying that! I am not sleeping with Scarlet! I never was!"

Palmer's lip was quivering dangerously. "But –"

"But what?! We're friends, Matt. Just that. Friends. And co-workers."

"And cousins, too?"

The general frowned. "Stop being so damn – damn –"

"The word is sarcastic, Klaus."

"Listen, whatever the word is, Scarlet's a funny, smart, and interesting gal. And maybe in another life time, sure. She and I would be a thing. Who knows?!"

"Thanks for the visual. My imagination desperately needed some more fuel."

"Dammit, sit down!" Heidegger roared. "The fact is I'd have to be pretty damned ungrateful to do anything with her. And pretty stupid. Well, dumber than I already am."

"No, you're not the stupid one, Klaus. I'm the stupid one for thinking you or anyone could stay interested in an old, dried up fat fool like –"

"Matt, shut up." Heidegger growled as he leaned down and buried his lips against his partner's.

"Mpphmhmm?!?" 

Despite his lover's inarticulate protest, Heidegger continued the kiss until his lungs protested. Then and only then did he let up. Palmer was panting for air, too. "Klaus?" he murmured softly, touching a finger to his lips, face flushed.

"Matt, listen…" Heidegger sighed. "You just… I gotta get some things clear now, okay? Can I sit down?"

"I doubt there's room enough on this tiny couch for the two of us." Palmer huffed. But he scooted to the right, anyway.

Heidegger eased himself onto the sofa. "Look, you were there forty years ago, right? And you know what people said about guys that took it up the ass…"

"All too well," Palmer winced. "But what does this –"

"Matt, c'mon. You know what woulda happened to us back then if anyone had known. You'd've been fired and I –"

"You can't expect me to believe nothing like this went on in Coral Prison."

"The point is I would've been locked up again for even looking at a Shinra employee. And a guy no less. Anyway, even if I coulda gone on and on about how much…" Heidegger sighed. "It's just not me, okay? I'm a private man. And even if I was with Scarlet, I still wouldn't be touchy-feely in public. And with another guy… Matt, maybe you're fine, but I'm the head of Public Safety and the whole Shinra military. If they thought I liked anything but pussy –"

"Klaus, everyone knows."

The general blinked. "Huh?"

"Everyone knows," Palmer sighed. "You really are clueless, aren't you? Everyone has known about our… relationship since the very beginning. And believe me, no one cares."

Heidegger was dumbstruck. "Huh?"

"Let me put it this way… we live together. We have lived together for the last thirty-nine years. We drive to work together. We eat together. We sit by each other at meetings. We drive home together at the end of the day… don't you think most intelligent people can figure it out, even if you insist upon introducing me as your cousin at every available opportunity?"

"I told you, that was twenty years ago and I'm sorry! It was a stupid thing to say, I admit it!" Heidegger palled. "Everyone knows?"

"Yes, and for the most part, no one cares." Palmer chuckled. "Or perhaps you didn't notice that Reeve also prefers men? In this case our new president."

Heidegger's eyes widened. "No…"

"Yes. And while, I'm sure, you probably have one or even one hundred thousand homophobic soldiers in your employ, I hardly think they'll mutiny tomorrow. If they had wanted to, it would have happened already. Klaus," Palmer slipped a hand onto his partner's shoulder. "The world is changing. Has changed. And, believe it or not, it's alright to hold my hand at six-thirty when I've had a bad day at work, even if Hojo is prowling the halls and happens to see." He chuckled. "Incidentally, a dinosaur could step out in front of him and he wouldn't care. He's too wrapped up in his work to notice much of anything that doesn't pertain to it."

"Hang on," Heidegger frowned and slid closer to the older man. This made absolutely no sense. "You said prefers men… so why did you ask if I was sleeping with Scarlet if you're lumping me in with a bunch of guys that prefer men?"

Palmer shrugged. "You two spend so much time together, and besides. Liking men doesn't mean you are incapable of liking women, too. You know that, Klaus. Further, you've been distant lately. You said it was work but…" he shrugged and looked down at his hands. "People tend to say that a lot when they don't want to say the truth."

"So," Heidegger shrugged. "What's the truth supposed to be?"

"The truth is what I said earlier; you're ashamed of me. It's alright. I don't mind you admitting you are. It's not admitting things that bothers me."

Heidegger had to admit something. He was just as baffled now as he was the first time his lover had said that. "And why would I be ashamed of you?"

Palmer laughed. "Klaus, look at me. I'm sixty-seven, half-blind in my left eye, and prone to bouts of depression, paranoia, acute social phobia and overeating." He patted his stomach regretfully. "Hey, they don't call me 'Fat Man Palmer' to my face for nothing. You on the other hand –"

"I on the other hand am libel to punch people that get on my nerves – especially the 'Fat Man Palmer' people -- and could probably stand to lose a few pounds myself."

Palmer looked down at his hands. "It's not the same, Klaus. The fact is you've aged well. You're still attractive. And you could find someone better in a heartbeat. And sometimes," Heidegger had to strain to hear the rest. "Sometimes I'm scared you're going to."

Ahah.

~So that's what was eating him.~

Yes, thank you. I think I figured that much out.

Heidegger was silent for a moment. And then he slipped his arm around his lover's shoulders. "Hey, listen," he took a deep breath. "I suck with words, okay? And I suck at being emotional and smart and saying what I really mean like you do. You'd think you'da figured that out after forty years or so."

"I don't understand. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Because sometimes I'm a real asshole to you and I don't mean to be. Like not knowing that you had yourself in a knot over this shit." Heidegger shifted uncomfortably. "Okay, alright. I did age a bit better than you. Thanks for the complement. And sure I could get somebody else if I wanted to. But that doesn't mean I will or that I even want to, okay?" After a moment he cleared his throat and added. "I haven't wanted anybody else for forty years and I probably won't for at least another forty, and by then we'll both be dead or too old to give a shit."

"Matthew," Heidegger slipped his free hand onto his lover's chest. "Look, I'm just trying to think of the best way to make us both happy and keep us both safe and, yeah, I pick the wrong thing half the time and end up doing just the reverse of what I wanted. And I know I make you feel like shit half the time, but I hope you know that's just my problem and not yours. Because you're just – you're just –"

"I'm just?" Palmer prompted, blushing nearly from chin to crown.

Heidegger closed his eyes. Hell with it. "You're just one helluva guy. And I'm the luckiest son-of-a-bitch on the planet."

"The luckiest meat and potatoes son-of-a-bitch?" Palmer had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

Heidegger chuckled. "Yeah, the luckiest meat and potatoes son-of-a-bitch on the planet."

"Hmm," Heidegger's breath caught in his throat as Palmer began caressing his hair. God damn, forty years and that touch of his still got him every damn time! How'd he do it? "Well, in that case, you're wrong. You're not a meat and potatoes son-of-a-bitch. You're a veal and Claret son-of-a-bitch. And don't you ever forget it."

"Gyahahaha! Claret?! That's a new one. You usually say brandied chocolates."

Palmer shrugged. "I'm getting forgetful in my old age." He moved closer.

Heidegger followed suit. "So, you feeling better now?"

Palmer nodded. "Quite a bit, thank you."

The general simply allowed Palmer to stroke his hair for a moment. Yeah, he decided, he could stay like this forever. But regardless of that, Palmer needed to hear something else right now. "Mhh…You know, the way you handled that waiter tonight –"

"Yes?" Palmer's hand shook slightly. Probably out of fear after having realized just what telling the little prick off actually signified.

"Well, when you did that, I was pretty stunned. I mean, here you are, scared shitless to talk in front of people, scared so bad that you trip all over yourself trying to get a word other than 'hey hey' out… and you still managed to rip that little shit a new one."

"I have no idea what came over me," Palmer admitted after a long pause.

"Oh, I think I do," Heidegger took Palmer's free hand. "I thought that was pretty damned brave of you and…" 

"And….?"

"Gyahahahaha! And kind of sexy, too."

"Sexy?!" Palmer cried, lightly whacking his lover's head. "Listen to you! Sexy." 

"What? Ten seconds ago you had your panties in a twist because you were too old for me or something. And then I say you're still the sexiest thing I've ever seen and that's not right either?"

"….Sorry." Heidegger could almost hear the blush in his lover's voice.

"Look, Matt. Maybe you don't get it most of the time, but the thing is, you're damn well loved, okay? And I don't love wimps. Or people that are unattractive. Got it?"

"Yes, I got it," Heidegger closed his eyes as Palmer returned to caressing his hair. "Now why don't you cut out this emotional shit and kiss me?"

"Gyahahahaha! That's more like it!" And Heidegger did.

~*~

The next afternoon, Rufus Shinra was surprised to see Palmer and Heidegger carrying – of all things – three Cornish game hens, a covered dish of escargot and two blueberry cheesecakes to the cafeteria on the sixty-fifth floor.

"Is someone having a party?" he questioned snidely as he followed the older men into the room.

"Gyahahaha! Hello there, sir. Matt and me were about to eat our lunch, so if you wanted to ask us something, now would be the best time to do it."

Rufus shook his head. "No, I didn't have anything on my mind per se. But for the love of god, Heidegger, stop that annoying horse laugh of yo—" and then it hit him. Had Heidegger just referred to Palmer by his first name? And by a nickname, no less?"

"Ohh! Cheese cake! Cheese cake! Tra la la! And they even remembered the napkins! You should threaten waiter's lives more often, Lard Cakes!"

Lard Cakes?! Since when were they being so open about things?

And since when were Heidegger and Palmer holding hands in public?! 

Heidegger noticed Rufus standing there, staring at the men as if he'd just seen a ghost.

"Gyahahaha! That's right sir. This whole lunch came from Le Maison Rouge! And they even gave us a bottle of Claret!"

"'22 Claret! Tra la la!"

"Oh. I see."

"Gyahahaha! There anything we can do for you, sir?"

"Uh…" Rufus gulped. Heidegger looked truly annoyed. "No, that's fine. Enjoy your lunch, gentlemen," Rufus turned to leave. "Just don't do anything with the table aside from eating off it," he muttered on his way out.

Heidegger and Palmer both burst into peals of laughter after the door closed behind the president.

"See, what did I tell you?" Palmer chuckled as he helped himself to a pheasant wing.

"Gyahhaahahah! We finally shut Rufus Shinra up. Who'da thought?"

"Who, indeed?" Palmer looked up from the cheesecake and smiled at his partner. "Maybe next time we could even kiss in front of him?"

"Don't push your luck," But Heidegger was smiling.

~ The End~


End file.
